Seasons
by Roman's Sundial
Summary: A four-chapter series of drabbles. Each one is in an entirely different universe from the others. TNHG
1. Summer

**The first of four chapters. AU.**

* * *

 _Where are you?_

As the sun's rays break the horizon and fill the grounds with their golden light, the girl wonders. It's late spring now, almost the end of the school year. The sparkling dew soaks her robes as she lays there, waiting.

 _Please come._

She thinks of the boy and how he reminded her of the warm weather, summer. His hair the color of fresh soil, falling over his eyes and constantly having to be brushed away. His eyes, a bright, sky blue, reminding her of rain.

They're so similar to each other, yet so different at the same time. Books and school. That's what they're mostly known for. But he never said hardly anything and was often forgotten when put with his friends. She was the Savior of the Wizarding World's best friend, never brushed off as just another student. The dew soaks her robes, dampens her hair, so much like his.

 _I'm still waiting._

Summer was supposed to be fun, warm and inviting, pleasant. But sometimes it was harsh. Burning heat rippling through and making the days terrible. She hates wondering about the season, but she contemplates it anyway. Summer, like winter, was one of those subjects that you couldn't help but wonder about.

She just can't understand why someone who was supposed to represent summer, a time of laughter and fun, could be so serious.

 _He likes it that way, though_ , she thinks.

If she were to be honest, she would say she liked autumn better, though, because winter was too white and summer too green. And although spring had brightly colored blossoms and new life sprouting everywhere, autumn had a sort of magic to it that no other season had. The beautiful colored leaves were entrancing in their own way.

But she still loves and enjoys the summertime anyway, just as she loves him.

 _Hurry._

Somewhere, a long way away, she imagines Harry and Ron, on the pitch and playing a Quidditch match—flying around on those dreadfully thin pieces of wood and throwing balls around. She imagines Ginny and everyone else cheering for their team, hoping for one last victory. She smiles, her eyes starting to glaze over and become glassy. At that moment, she wishes she could just stand up and run back to where they were, cheering them on to get one more win for the year, despite her distaste for the sport.

But she can't, because she's stuck, waiting and waiting and waiting forever and ever and ever…

 _Aren't you coming to save me?_

There are soft footfalls near her, but she can't see them nor hear them as she stares up, almost unblinkingly, at the sky, which reminds her of his eyes…

She flicks her eyes toward her left and sees the gleaming silver of the dagger lying a couple feet away. The dark crimson matches the color soaking from her side. _You don't deserve to die like a witch_ , they had sneered. _Born a Muggle, die a muggle._

 _Please come._

It hurts to die alone, outside and where no one can see you. She won't cry but she starts to lose hope that someone— _anyone_ —would be there. But she hangs on to that hopeful thread, that he'll come to save from this and make her better so she can run and laugh and be with him again.

Then she realizes that he isn't here, and probably never will be.

 _I'm slipping…_

Slipping off the precarious cliff of life that she hangs on by just one hand... Her heart still beats, her lungs still breathe, and her mind still turns, but everything seems to get colder, even as the sun warms the grounds and dries up the dew.

A rustle stirs the silence. She doesn't hear it.

She does hear, though, ever so faintly, the voice calling to her from beyond, desperately asking her to stay awake, to not die on him now, not after all they've been through… _Just the wind_ , she thinks, the wind mocking her in her last moments. She's too exhausted and sleepy to be angry, though, so she just smiles.

 _He's here and he's come to save me from this he's here he's here he's here—_

And his face appears above hers, looking like summer, eyes wide and frantic, shining with fear and desperation. Though her eyesight is blurry and everything blends together, she can clearly see his eyes, those beautiful blue orbs, pleading with her to look into them and say she's _still alive, please—_

 _Of course_ , she thinks, but doesn't say aloud. _I always will be, right?_

As long as he wants her here, she'll be here, right?

 _Safe, now…_

The pain has ebbed away and the cold has disappeared and all she feels is him.

Perhaps he isn't like summer at all, but like autumn. His arms feel cool but comforting. His body is warm as he holds her. His tears bring back memories of the late October rains, the ones that make the ground soft and quiet.

A light breeze drifts by and a brown leaf crinkles past, and then nothing.

 _Too late._


	2. Spring

Hermione Granger hated spring. Absolutely despised it. It was the worst season, in her opinion, bypassing even the bitter Scottish winters. It was the time of year in which she spent her days either in a classroom, or the Head Girl room, or otherwise holed up in the library. Also, it was quite clear that her Muggle heritage had followed her into Hogwarts in more ways than one, especially in the form of allergies. The spring air gave her terrible runny noses and always induced bouts of sneezing, despite the many remedies Madam Pomfrey had given her over the years.

Therefore, when Theo had appeared in the library that afternoon, she had been rather irritated (mostly due to her nose, which had been running profusely) when he had stood behind her, trying to nibble affectionately at her neck.

"I'm studying," Hermione said crossly.

"But why?" Theo asked incredulously. "You've already got all of your assignments done for the next… like, five weeks. Why not take a break?"

"Because. What else is there to do? I'm not going outside; I'll start having a sneezing fit or something mortifying like that." She folded her arms stubbornly even as she tilted her head to give her boyfriend of eleven months more access.

"I know you can't go outside. I'm not asking you to," Theo replied, voice slightly muffled against her skin, "but you should do something else. Why are you still working on school stuff? Like I said before, it's kind of pointless if you've got the next month finished."

"Because. Now stop talking so loud… Madam Pince won't be very happy." Hermione turned back to her Potions book to read some more, but suddenly the mouth on her neck disappeared. "Where are you going?"

"Away. I know when I'm not wanted!" Theo replied as he walked off.

A few weeks later, Hermione found herself in the library again, nursing a slight cold which only added to her allergies. She held several tissues in one hand and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them in the other. A blanket covered her bottom half and three pillows supported her from behind as she settled herself in the window seat to read contentedly.

A few hours later, when Hermione was about finished with the book, she heard a noise behind her and turned, seeing Theo approach.

He must have come in from outside, Hermione mused. His brown bangs stuck to his forehead and his face was red, presumably from the unusually warm temperatures outdoors.

"Hey," he greeted casually. Noting the blanket sitting over Hermione's legs, he asked, "Are you sick?"

"Yes," she replied miserably. "I must have caught something yesterday." She gestured to the ample room on the cushion. "Join me?"

Theo nodded, wiping the back of his neck with his shirt and sitting down. His neatly folded robe was placed next to him as he brushed the hair out of Hermione's eyes and locking their lips together. Hermione reached up, forgetting about the book and wrapping her arms around him as best she could.

When they broke apart, she was suddenly overtaken by a sneeze. "I hope you don't get sick," Hermione said worriedly.

"Ah, it's fine. I'll just take some Pepper Up," he responded. "Speaking of which, have you taken any for that cold of yours?"

"No," she admitted. "I probably should, though."

"I'll grab some. Be back in a jiffy."

The next day, Hermione was feeling much better. She was back in the library, studying for the Herbology exam they had coming up, when she was suddenly pulled off of her chair and picked up bridal style. "Hey!"

A grinning Theo looked down at her scowling face. His wand already in hand, he banished her schoolbooks and things back to her room and said mischievously, "You won't need those anymore today. We're going to the Room."

At last, Hermione consented and gave him a brilliant smile and snuggled into his chest as he brought her up to the seventh floor.


	3. Autumn

_They stand at the edge of that metaphorical cliff of decisions. A forest of results rises below them. A mist of logic and emotion surrounds the area, making the air feel cold and damp with conflict. Just like him._

oOo

He was deemed unlovable. Not because he was unkind; he may have well been the kindest of all the students in Hogwarts. He didn't say anything; nothing to bring those up, sure, but nothing to bring them down, either.

Everyone judges, whether good or bad doesn't matter. They often voice their opinions, praising or degrading. But Theodore Nott didn't. He said nothing against anyone, but that resulted in what seemed a tragedy. The Slytherin boys tolerated his high intellectual ability and the constant stays at the library. The girls admired his looks from afar.

But they were all distant. They stayed away from the ice-like pureblood, making him out to be an emotionless nerd with no social life. Even Draco, the boy he had known since they were young, was far away. He was alone. Until Hermione Granger exploded into his life.

She, with her giant, honey-blonde and toffee-brown hair and those intelligent, golden eyes, taught him love.

oOo

It started with the library tables. When they were full with fifth and seventh years all cramming for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, he sat at her table. They studied quietly, without speaking, but Hermione found it comforting.

It became a regular occurrence even through the start of Sixth Year. But she didn't mind.

In Seventh Year, something started to grow and continued to bloom, even after Ron started criticising Hermione and her study partner. "You shouldn't be spending time with that slimy Slytherin," he had warned.

She ignored him.

When Theo finally invited her to Hogsmeade with him, she was ecstatic— in her head, of course. Ron, however, was not impressed. Harry tried to support her, but he, too, was rather keen on avoiding him as much as possible. "He's friends with Malfoy," was his excuse.

oOo

It was late October when she told him. They had grown close—very close. "I think I might love you," was all she said. Theo, who was rubbing Hermione's arms because of brisk wind cutting through the air (neither of them had jumpers), immediately stilled in shock.

Wasn't he supposed to be ice? Frozen and without emotion?

In an effort to appear as unsurprised as possible, he rubbed her arms a little more before letting the both of them sink down to the ground slowly as the metaphorical cliff of decisions appeared in front of him. What if he told her back? What if he didn't? A forest of results rose below him. What if something happened before he did tell her? A mist of logic and emotion surrounded the area, making the air feel even colder and more damp with conflict. Just like him.

The red maple and the golden oak leaves fell in slow motion around Hermione and Theo as they stood on the grounds in mid-November. It was a day when the temperature was unusually warm but mild and sunny. He never did tell her what he felt that day.

But perhaps, maybe, he would soon work up the courage to tell her his feelings for her.

" _I love you_."


	4. Winter

The wind whipped up snow outside, creating heavy drifts and blowing the falling snowflakes everywhere. By the next morning, the snow had piled up against the house and neither Theodore Nott nor Hermione Granger felt like removing it, even with magic.

Inside a tiny, cottage-like home just outside of London, Theo idly turned the page of the Daily Prophet while Hermione made them both coffee. "Mm. Turns out we're breaking up. Did you know that, 'Mione?" he asked.

"Oh, no I didn't." Hermione feigned surprise as she brought the mugs over before going back to get the cream and sugar. "Was it because I was snogging Harry?"

"No… it was because I was snogging Harry," Theo replied. He took a sip of the bitter liquid, made a face, and spooned more sugar into it.

"One of these days you're going to get sick from all that sugar you drink every day," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. "And don't be ridiculous. You know Daphne would never let him go."

Theo laughed. "You'd never let me go either, will you?" He pulled her down for a quick peck and laughed again when Hermione complained about him being "too cheesy".


End file.
